This Twisted Reality
by holmesian13
Summary: Sherlock comes back but who is the first person he tells? Not John! Eventual Johnlock.
1. Chapter 1

**Sherlock comes back but who is the first person he tells? not John!**

**Disclaimer:I own all of it bc i am the great Sherlock Holmes. not really don't own anything. :'(**

**this is my first fic so reviews would be apprciated!**

Chapter 1

Detective Inspector Lestrade had had a rough day at the job. They had a little child abducted and it had taken him and his team three days to find her. He had pulled two all-nighters with only two hours of sleep during the expanse of the case. He thought that had Sherlock been there he would have probably wrapped this case up a lot faster. Sure he would have insulted his team and himself multiple times, called them stupid, and an inept police force, but he still would have saved the girl a lot of pain. He knew he would've gotten mad at Sherlock for insulting everything he did, but now that he was gone… Lestrade thought he could use that snide sociopath to direct him on his way. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he missed Sherlock, he hated him sometimes, but he still missed him.

He was the last to walk out the doors of New Scotland Yard. He locked them behind himself, and just about five minutes into his walk home he got a txt. The number was blocked. It read:

**Come at once to Barts Morgue.**

Greg was puzzled. Who would txt him at three AM? It sounded just like something Sherlock would do, but he was dead. Maybe it was the other Holmes. He replied back:

**Who is this?**

It took less than a minute for the person to respond. The next txt read:

**Someone you'll want to meet.**

This sounded exactly like the elder Holmes to Greg. He shrugged and changed his course to Barts. He hadn't been there in ages. He walked up to the door and surprisingly found it unlocked. He opened it and walked down the familiar path to the morgue. He couldn't hear anything as he walked down the steps to the dark room. He was starting to get nervous. Greg couldn't see anyone who worked at Barts walking through the halls; it was silent as the dead.

He walked into the morgue, flipped on the light switch, and looked around. Greg didn't see anyone in there, didn't hear anyone breathing waiting to ambush him. The room was empty. He did a couple of circuits just to see if anyone was hiding. No one was there but himself. Cursing under his breath Greg made for the door, but not before something white caught his eye. He looked over and saw it was a piece of paper folded neatly in half lying on one of the tables. He picked it up. It had his name on it. DI Lestrade. The handwriting was not familiar to Greg at all. He thought it was odd that it had his title on it rather than his first name. He pushed that thought away, Mycroft had his reasons. Greg picked up the note and opened it. On the inside was this note in the same unfamiliar script:

I have changed my mind. It was too dull waiting down here. Meet me in the lab.

Greg was defiantly convinced that this was Mycroft's doing. Why would he have called him down to Barts this early in the morning? He guessed he would find out soon enough.

He walked back up the stairs in the direction of the lab, not fully knowing what was waiting for him there. Once in front of the lab door he knocked…no answer. He knocked again…Still no answer. He slowly opened the door and saw a man with blonde hair and a hoodie bent over a microscope. This defiantly was not Mycroft, then who was it? He approached the figure who still had not even acknowledged him. He was soon behind this mysterious person, whom had had his back to Greg the entire time. This man looked to be quite thin and of a fair height. Greg tapped him on the shoulder and tentatively asked,

"Are you the one who texted me?""

The man stood, Greg noticed that he was rather taller than he had initially thought. He turned around and Greg stared openmouthed at the man standing in front of him. It couldn't be. It just couldn't be. He was dead. Greg was now staring at the face of the Reichenbach hero, the great detective, Sherlock Holmes.

**please please review. might not be able to upload with finals coming up i have to study! ha yeah right i never study! please review! again first fic i hope to write more!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: still dont own**

**Your reviews were appreiciated french fry, charlotte, and goat! hope u like plz review!**

Chapter 2

"Close your mouth inspector, it's very unbecoming."

Greg felt himself start to sway and his vision went in and out of focus. As he started to fall he felt a chair pushed under him. He sank down gratefully, and put his head in his hands trying to stop the room from spinning.

Greg opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again. He was in shock. This couldn't be Sherlock before him, but there was no one else it could be. He only knew two people with that eye colour: Sherlock and Mycroft. Everything else about the detective had changed; his hair and his clothes had changed. It was hard to recognize him unless you looked him right in the face. That was the only thing that hadn't changed.

"Y-You" Greg stammered. "You were dead!" Greg's shock was quickly turning into rage. "DO TOU KNOW WHAT WE WENT THROUGH?" Greg yelled. Sherlock looked alarmed and was quickly backing away towards the opposite wall; he had never seen Lestrade that furious.

"Now inspector calm yourself-" This was definantly not the response Sherlock had expected from the man.

"JOHN WAS DEVASTATED! I WAS SAD! YOUR OWN BROTHER WAS EVEN THOUGHLY DEPRESSED!" Greg let his anger get the best of him. He was desperate, he wanted to make Sherlock see what he had done to them all.

"MRS. HUDSON WOULDN'T STOP CRYING FOR WEEKS! AND JOHN! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT YOU DID TO HIM!" Greg stopped yelling for a second, waiting for an answer.

Sherlock was definantly alarmed by now. He was drinking in every word Lestrade was yelling at him. He'd had no idea that it would make this big on an impact on him.

"Inspector I-" Sherlock tried to say, but was immediately cut off by Lestrade continuing to shout abuse at him.

"YOU PRACTICALLY KILLED HIM! HE WAS DEPRESSED AND MOPING AROUND ALL THE TIME! HE WOULDN'T LET ANY OF US VISIT HIM. EVERY TIME WE WOULD GO OVER TO COMFORT HIM HE WOULD SLAM THE DOOR IN OUR FACES! THE ONLY ONE WHO WASN'T AS AFFECTED WAS MOLLY! MOLLY HOOPER! "

At that point Greg had been walking slowly forward towards Sherlock. Suddenly shouting just wasn't enough. Sherlock was backed into a corner unable to get out. He advanced on Sherlock and punched him square in the face. Sherlock spun with the force of the punch and landed flat on his arse.

As Greg stood over him he saw Sherlock eyes go in and out of focus as he sat up against the wall attempting to regain his bearings.

If Sherlock had been surprised by the inspectors first reaction he definantly was not prepared for a punch in the face. As he sat on the ground he knew he deserved it. He hadn't realized that his death would have such an impact on people like Lestrade or Mrs. Hudson, most of all he didn't think that it would have affected John so drastically. John, the army doctor whom had invaded Afghanistan. John, his faithful friend who had helped him to capture so many criminals.

His vision had finally focused and he stood up. He put his hand up to where Lestrade had punched him. He looked down at his hand. It had blood all over it. His nose was bleeding. He cursed under his breath while pinching his nose, trying to stop the bleeding. That was going to hurt in the morning. He could see that Lestrade was still furious. Sherlock let out a sigh.

"Listen-" he paused but Lestrade looked as mad as ever, "Greg-" he saw the anger in the older mans eyes fade a little bit at the mention of his first name. "For once, you were right. I didn't think how it would affect other people. I think that I should explain a few things-"Sherlock faltered trying to see what Greg would do next.

"Fine, you can explain, but first"

Greg punched him again, not as hard but still quite painful, and still hard enough to land him on his arse again. He recovered much more quickly this time and stood up. His eyes flaring with anger.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT FOR!" Sherlock yelled.

"That… Was for John." Lestrade said simply before turning on his heel and walking out of the lab, headed for the door.

That answer silenced Sherlock for the entire walk to the front door up until Greg hailed a cab and they both climbed in. It was then that Sherlock bothered to assess his injuries. Broken nose. Split lip.

"Where are we going?" Sherlock finally asked, to break the silence.

"Baker Street," Greg replied, "Sorry about you nose by the way."

"It's fine. I know I deserved it. Why Baker Street, Exactly? Isn't he still living there?"

"No, he moved out a few days after you fell. Being in the place just seemed to make him even more sad. By the way, did you get a new mobile? I didn't recognize the number."

"Yes I did, my old one is still on top of Barts. I couldn't very well go up and fetch it now could I? How is he? I mean had he moved on?"

"Yes, of course he has. He's forgotten all about you." Lestrade replied sarcastically. Sherlock, however, did not catch the sarcasm. Lestrade saw the pain flash through the detectives' eyes and quickly said:

"Kidding! He's pretty much the same as he was after you fell. Now he works though and he'll talk to us now but… he still isn't the same" Lestrade finished somewhat melodramatically.

They spent the rest of the ride in silence. When they pulled up outside of Baker Street, Sherlock immediately noticed that the light was on in their flat, this fact went unnoticed by the inspector. Sherlock unlocked the door to their flat and followed Lestrade up the stairs. The flat door was open and Sherlock saw someone bustling around the flat cleaning. Mrs. Hudson. At least he wouldn't have to stand another reaction like Greg's. Lestrade knocked on the open door, startling Mrs. Hudson, who turned and told him to enter. She hadn't seen Sherlock. She turned back to her cleaning before Sherlock entered the familiar flat.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson," Lestrade said cheerfully "I think there's someone here that you'll want to see."

**i still have finals but still am not studying for them! review and try to tell me what my username means. see if your smart enough! plzzz review!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you shayscott for reviewing means alot. hope you like this chapter charlotte!**

Chapter 3

"Is it Joh-"Mrs. Hudson stopped mid-sentence as she saw Sherlock. "Sh-Sh-Sherlock!" she managed to get out before her eyes rolled back into her head, and fell backwards in a dead faint.

Sherlock rushed over to catch her before she hit the floor. He laid her in a chair and waited for her to wake up.

Sherlock got to his feet and went into the kitchen to make tea, and found that all of his science equipment and belongings were still where he had left them last. He found the tea in the same place, and the sugar too. He made a cup of tea fo himself, Lestrade, and for Mrs. Hudson when she woke up.

He and Lestrade drank their tea in silence, waiting. She had to be awake before he started to tell his story. Sherlock didn't really feel like telling it more than he had to.

She woke with a start, causing Lestrade to jump. Mrs. Hudson looked around quickly finding Sherlock, who had gone into the kitchen in search of another cup of tea.

"Oh, Sherlock! You're alive!" she started to cry and ran over to give him a hug.

Sherlock stiffened as she embraced him, looking really awkward, then he slowly relaxed.

"Don't cry Mrs. Hudson. It does absolutely nothing to help the situation."

"Oh, same old Sherlock! What've you done to your hair!"

"Dyed it, had to disguise myself somehow."

"What happened to your face! Have you been attacked?"

"No I haven't been attacked, technically, our dear inspector had a rather different reaction to my not being dead than you did."

Lestrade gave Mrs. Hudson a rather sheepish grin.

"Oh shame on you inspector! Would you like some tea?"

"I already made some Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock replied handing Mrs. Hudson her tea. She looked happier than he had ever seen her.

"But, Sherlock…" Mrs. Hudson looked puzzled, "How? Why?" her face turned from happiness to sadness at this question.

Sherlock tried to compose himself. He felt guilty. Wait… since when did HE feel guilty? Since when did he feel anything? Oh, it didn't matter all he knew was that the look on Mrs. Hudson's' face made him feel it. Damn sentiment.

"I was just about to explain that to the good inspector here," Sherlock said regaining his composure. "I was at Barts when I sent John to the flat so I could escape up to the roof to meet Moriarty . I found him waiting up there listening to some music. He told me that if I did not die he would kill all of you, that all of the time we were on that roof he had his snipers trained on the both of you and John. He had found my weakness. However he let slip that he was the only one who could call off his snipers. I thought I had him, thought I was one-up on him. If I could only keep him alive I wouldn't have to jump, but he bested me again, he pulled out his gun and shot himself. I was faced with a dilemma jump and "die" or stay alive and risk killing all of you. As you know I chose to jump."

"But how did you survive?" Lestrade asked.

He sighed. "I had a little help from Molly."

"That's why she didn't seem as sad as the rest of us." Lestrade said voicing his realization aloud.

"Yes, I had hoped that she would have been a more proficient actor. Anyways, I had felt that something like this was going to happen, so I planned ahead. I had my agents stationed around the building to make it seem realistic. I had told Molly that I thought that I was going to die and she helped me to make it so that I wouldn't really have to die. We had many bodies readily accessed, so used prosthetics to make it look like me. We had the body stationed down at the ground level of Barts incase I had to jump. I did though, so I jumped and landed into the lorry that was stationed outside. I had made sure that John was placed just so that he would not see where I landed. We had realized that John would be the only one that would see the body and recognize it to be a fake. I had a bicyclist run into John as he ran forward to disorient him. John's judgment would be impaired by the time he got to "me". Luckily he did not see through the prosthetics, though not for lack of trying, my agents had a tough time holding him back. He took the pulse of the body, believed it was I, and the body was taken away in an ambulance that Mycroft had set up."

"What! Do you mean Mycroft was in on this!"

"Well, yes he is an exceptional actor. Why do you seem so surprised inspector?"

"Uhh… no reason. We don't have time for this now!"

"But why three years sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"I had no choice Mrs. Hudson, I had to destroy the rest of Moriartys web. I have only one assassin left that knew of Moriartys orders to kill you three, and to catch him I need… Scotland Yard."

"Well, ok. What's his name?" Lestrade asked getting a business like air about him.

"Colonel Sebastian Moran."

"Never heard of him."

"I didn't think that you would. He is a world class assassin."

"Who is he trying to kill then?"

"Me." There was a silence as everyone thought about what Sherlock had said.

"Then he knows your not dead?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"No, of course not. He only knows me as someone who is getting way to far into his business."

"So, what's the plan?" Lestrade asked.

"Hmm?" Sherlock said, having been immersed deeply in his thoughts. "Nohting."

"Nothing? But you have to have a plan at some point!"

"Fine, if I call, you will come to where I tell you with some of your least annoying officers. How's that?"

"Well, I guess its better than nothing." There was a long silence, in which they all drank their tea and thought about the task ahead of them.

"Are you going to tell him then?" Greg asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

"Tell whom?" Sherlock replied.

"Oh, don't be thick Sherlock." Lestrade waited for and answer and let out a sigh when he saw he wasn't getting one. "John, of course!" Greg exclaimed exasperatedly.

"Yes, I guess I will have to eventually… but I just don't know how he will respond…"

**hope you liked this! four should be up tomorrow! it has john in it. tomorrow i actually have finals so dont expect it to be up till like two. still not studying, wish me luck!**


	4. Chapter 4

**hey this is the one with johns reaction. this has been done so many times before so i hope my interpretation sticks in your mind!plzzz review!**

Chapter 4

"Goodbye, John" he heard these last words ring in the silence around him. He saw the figure cast his phone aside onto the roof of the building, stand up on the ledge and fall face forward toward the pavement below. It was as if the figure was falling in slow motion, waving his arms, trying to stay upright.

Then he was yelling, screaming the figures name, he tried to run, but his feet wouldn't move. He couldn't do anything, couldn't move, and couldn't even try to help save him. He heard the dull thud as body met pavement. Then he saw the blood, blood everywhere, on the pavement spreading out from beneath the figures dark curls, covering his face. His beautiful face.

John Watson awoke in his bed screaming. Screaming for Sherlock, his best friend, who had left him forever. He lay back down and curled into the fetal position and cried. He would never be able to hear that deep baritone voice, see the swish of that long coat, or see the glimmer in his eye when they were on the chase.

John somehow managed to stop crying, thinking of what Sherlock would say if he saw him like this. He wiped his face with the back of his hand and got dressed. John made himself a pot of tea and sat down in his living room. His new flat was small, cramped, and cold. It was nothing like Baker Street, but he couldn't go back there. There were too many things to remind himself of Sherlock, god it even hurt to think his name.

He thought of Sherlock as he got ready to go to work. He knew it had been three years. He knew he should be at least a little over it by now, but he wasn't, he just couldn't forget, wouldn't forget.

His day at the surgery went just as normally as any other day. Since Sherlock's death he had thrown himself into his work. He was working extra hours here and there, just helping out for the heck of it sometimes. He felt like he was helping the world a little by working at the surgery, helping to save the lives of someone else, so that maybe at least one other person wouldn't have to go through what he went through.

The day went by pretty quick, mush too quickly for Johns liking. His shift was suddenly over. He walked out of the doors of the surgery and hailed a cab. On his way home he thought about many things, work, Sherlock, Lestrade, Sherlock, Molly, Sherlock. That was when John remembered that Molly was coming over today; she had been like his personal psychiatrist in a way. This thought lifted his mood a bit.

John got out of the cab that had stopped outside of the flat. He unlocked the door and went straight to his room to take off the clothes he had worn to the surgery. He exchanged those clothes for his favourite jumper and a pair of jeans.

Molly arrived looking as pepper as always. She asked John about his day, what he had done, and pretty much anything else she could think of.

"Ummm… John? I invited someone over to visit. It that ok?" Molly asked, she sounded nervous, like she was expecting him to flip out or something.

"Yeah Molly, it fine, but who is it?"

"Oh, I can't tell you, he wanted to surprise you, but I will give you a hint. Its someone that you haven't seen in a while."

Well, that really narrowed it down, there were many people he hadn't seen in a while. Mrs. Hudson, Mike, Greg, Harry… he wondered who it could be.

"Ok, well… he should be here in about… five minutes."

They sat in silence, drinking their tea and waiting for John's uninvited guest. There was a knock at the door, and John got up to answer it.

"Hey, John! Long time no see," DI Lestrade said cheerfully.

"Hey, Greg, How've you been?"

"Oh, just fine! You?"

"Ok… I guess" Greg seemed unusually happy today. What ever had happened had obviously effected both of them.

"So… why so chipper today? Good day at the office?"

"Oh god no! haven't had a good day at the office in years! Just a good day in general, you could say."

"So, why did you decide to pop in?" John asked, starting to get suspicious.

"Oh, just wanted to say hello, see how you were dooin." Lestrade replied bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Greg you are the worst liar ever." John stated bluntly, "Now what's going on!"

"Uhh." What could they possibly show him? It was clearly what had so brightened their day.

"Ok, come on in!" Greg shouted over his shoulder.

John saw the door open slowly and a long thin figure with blonde hair step into his flat. He looked at the figure not knowing in the slightest, what was going on. He looked to Lestrade and Molly, slightly confused. He looked back to the figure, who was shuffling his feet nervously. John looked up to his face. He had blonde hair, that John had noticed almost immediately, but that face… No, no it couldn't be, not this dream, not again.

"No," John said quietly.

"Sorry?" Lestrade asked.

"No!" John replied, suddenly a bit louder, "NO, NO, NO!" he bellowed. John sat down with his knees up against his chin and his hands over his head.

Wake up, please wake up, just wake up. Not this again, please. He suddenly found that he was saying that out loud.

"Wake up, please wake up. Not this, anything but this. PLEASE!"

Sherlock, Molly, and Greg all rushed over to John who was rocking back and forth on the couch, pleading to wake up. Saying those words over and over again.

"What is he doing?" Sherlock asked, his question being pointed at no one in particular.

"He thinks he's dreaming." Molly replied quietly.

"What! How do you know?"

"He- he told me. This is one of the dreams he had. You come back, and he's happy. Then he wakes up, and its even worse. He says he feels like he's dying inside," this short speech was met with a brief silence.

"What can we do? How do we stop it!" Sherlock was close to yelling at the moment.

"I think I have an idea." Lestrade suddenly piped up.

"What! Anything!"

"Molly! What does Sherlock normally do in Johns dreams?" Lestrade asked, turning to Molly.

"Well, he does what he normally does."

"Wha-" Sherlock started, but Lestrade cut him off.

"Sherlock, for once in your life, shut up, I'm trying to think! YES! I've got it! Sherlock," Lestrade said turning back to Sherlock." You have to show your feelings."

"I don't feel-" Sherlock scoffed.

"Yes, we know, at least fake it, for John."

"If I did something out of the ordinary wouldn't that just further the illusion that this is a dream?"

"Not if you act how I think you act in his dreams."

They all fell silent. How is he supposed to do that! If he had ever know how to comfort someone he had definatly deleted it. He needed help, he turned to Molly.

"Molly, what am I supposed to do? How can I not be myself?"

"Sherlock" Molly said tentatively looking at the detective, "Comfort him. Tell him that it's not a dream. He wont believe it if it's one of us telling him."

"Ok." Sherlock walked slowly over to John and sat down next to him on the couch. John had been reduced to a quivering mass.

"John." Sherlock said quietly, awkwardly putting his hand on the shorter mans shoulder. "John, it's ok, you're not dreaming. I'm here. I'm alive. Its ok." He kept repeating those words. The ones that would hopefully help John to believe him. They tasted strange on Sherlock's tongue, and he didn't like it, but he kept repeating them. Slowly, very slowly John uncurled form his ball and sat up somewhat straight.

John looked up into Sherlock's face. There was a hint of something in his eyes, was it fear, pain. John didn't really care. Normally his dream would've ended when he first saw Sherlock. He never did something like this in his dreams. He finally voiced his fears aloud, still not registering any of what Sherlock had been saying for the last five minutes.

"Sh-Sherlock? A-am I d-dreaming?" John asked quietly.

"No John, you're not dreaming. I'm here, and I'm not leaving anytime soon."

"You better not you asshole, if you do I will kill you Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock chuckled. John having been finally convinced that he was not dreaming fell asleep clutching onto Sherlock's arm. He picked John up and carried him out of the door to his former flat.

"Wait, Sherlock! Where are you going?" Lestrade yelled after the detective, who was now getting into a cab.

"Home." Sherlock said with a look that told Lestrade Sherlock thought that was the most obvious answer in the world.

**hope you liked it i know sherlock showed a lot of emotion but oh well! hope u liked it! i actually have to study for these new finals so i dont know when ch 5 will be up. thank you all for following this story. plz review. thanks for all of the reviews! plz review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**hey i dont know when i'm gonna get 6 up. im surprised that this is up so early! hope you like it!**

Chapter 5

The cab started up, taking the worst possible route to get to Baker Street. Sherlock looked at the sleeping doctor who cling to his arm so tightly he didn't have the faintest idea of how do get him off. He looked at his flat mate's face. He looked so peaceful, all of the worry lines and all of the tears were gone from his face as he snuggled into Sherlock's side.

The cab pulled up outside of 221b. Sherlock threw some money at the cabbie, and carried John up the stairs to their flat.

"Oh, Sherlock, how did it go?" Mrs. Hudson asked upon Sherlock's arrival only to change her sentence to: "What happened! Is there anything wrong with him?"

"No, nothings wrong Mrs. Hudson he's just asleep." Sherlock called over his shoulder as he walked in the direction of John's room.

Sherlock had never been in John's room before. It had a bed up against the wall on the far side of the room, old army habit, a dresser on the other side, and a night stand next to the bed on the right side.

Sherlock walked over to the bed and lay John down. He walked around John's room taking in everything that was there, which was not much; He looked around for a few more seconds. His room was plain, it had no personality, unlike his own, which had case files strewn about, experiments, science equipment, and a body part here and there.

Sherlock walked back to the main room, and looked around there. Mrs. Hudson had obviously tried to pack away most of his things, but had stopped as there had been too many things. Sherlock dig through one of the boxes that lay about the flat, in it he found his skull. She hadn't thrown it out. He placed in back on the mantel where it belonged. In another box he found some of his other science equipment. He set it all back up to where he could engage in an experiment. He was halfway through analyzing how human skin reacted when it came into contact with certain chemicals, when he heard his name being screamed from upstairs.

"Sh-Sh-Sherlock!"

Oh, damn. Sherlock rushed up the stairs to see a scared looking John sitting on his bed. He looked petrified, but the feat subsided a bit when he saw Sherlock. John immediately got up and ran over to Sherlock and wrapped his arms around him. Sherlock tensed and froze. He slowly he slowly wrapped his arms around the shorter man, awkwardly patted him on the back.

"Dammit, Sherlock, don't ever do that to me again!" John said quietly his voice muffled by Sherlock's coat.

"Do what?"

"Die," the mans voice cracked on this word. John stepped back and punched Sherlock in the nose, not as hard as he could, but just enough to start Sherlock's nose bleeding again.

"Ahh F-" Sherlock started, cursing while trying to stop his nose bleeding for the second time that night.

"John, explain to me that when I ask you to punch me in the face you are so reluctant, but when I don't ask you do so freely?" Sherlock asked, more than a little annoyed.

They both chuckled at remembering what Sherlock was referencing.

"I couldn't have done that much damage though. It looks like your nose is broken, and what happened to your lip?"

"Ahh… well that was Lestrade's doing. He got extremely pissed and you can figure out the rest."

"Well… who else knows."

"Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson."

"What about Molly?'

"She always knew, she helped me fake it."

"How did you manage Sherlock? I-I saw you fall…"

Sherlock began retelling the story he had told to Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson, when he finished John looked amazed.

"You thought up this whole plan, just because Moriarty said that he owed you a fall?"

"Wouldn't you have thought of it." Sherlock said with a look of confusion on his face. He looked so handsome confused. Wait did he just think that Sherlock was handsome? Well he was, what was wrong with John thinking it?

"No, Sherlock, I wouldn't have ever thought of it."

Sherlock stood up and went into his bedroom and emerged a minute later wearing his coat and scarf. He threw John his coat.

"Where are we going?"

"Scotland Yard. I have to have a few words with Lestrade."

They both walked out of the doors of 221b, and Sherlock hailed a cab. They got in.

"Sherlock, what did you do to your hair?" whatever he had done he hoped I wasn't permanent, he loved his raven curls.

"I dyed it John, even you should've gotten that much."

"Yeah, ok but why?"

"Disguise, John."

There was silence while they both stared out of the window. It was nice to just have Sherlock sitting by him again. To know that he really was there this time, that he wasn't leaving.

"Hey, Sherlock"

"Hmm."

"Are you going to just walk through the doors of Scotland Yard when everyone thinks you're dead?"

"That is where you come in John; you need to ask to see Lestrade. Say that its urgent and I'll just follow you up there."

"Ok… what do you have to talk to him about?"

"I have a plan to catch Moran, and I need Scotland yards help."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You heard me the first time, I'm not repeating it."

Their cab pulled up outside of the Yard and they both got out, John walked up to the desk.

"I need to speak with DI Lestrade."

"I'm sorry, he's busy at the moment."

"Its urgent. It involves one of his cases."

She let out a sigh and pointed behind her "Right through there."

In a second Sherlock was by John's side and they were walking down to Lestrade's office when they ran into the man himself.

"What brings you down here?" Lestrade asked sounding surprised.

"We have to discuss the case." Sherlock replied quietly.

"Ok I'll be with you in a mo. I'll meet you in my office. Ok?"

"Fine," Sherlock said and turned on his heel in the direction of Lestrade office, John following closely on his heels.

Greg walked over to Donovan and told her to get the case files for the missing girl in order.

"Sir, cant you do it? I have something to do tonight."

"No, Donovan, I can't. If I could I wouldn't have asked you."

Oh god, Sherlock was rubbing off on him.

"Get someone to help you if you like, I just need it done."

"Sorry, but what do you have to do that is so important?" Donovan asked a little trace of contempt in her voice.

"I have to speak with someone." Lestrade turned and made to leave Donovan, when she came up with another question.

"Who?"

Lestrade just turned back around and made for his office.

"Ok," Lestrade said as he entered his office and closed the door behind him, "What do you want?"

**im at a loss of what his plan should be if you have any sugestions i might just use them. plz review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**sorry it took me a while to put this up. jump drive was beign tempramental. hope u like!**

Chapter 6

Sherlock had been trying to think of a plan since he had last spoken to Lestrade and he had finally thought of one. Lestrade was walked over to his desk and sat down.

"Ok, explain." Lestrade said getting very business like.

"Yes, first I need-"the rest of what Sherlock was saying was cut off by Donovan walking into Lestrade's office.

"Inspector I-"she cut herself off as her eyes found Sherlock in his usual pose across two of Lestrade's seats. They locked eyes for a second before she fell backwards.

"OH GOOD LORD!" Sherlock exclaimed, "IS THIS GOING TO HAPPEN WITH EVERY FRICKING PERSON I SEE!"

Sherlock was storming about the office while John watched, slightly amused. Granted that must be highly annoying, but John found it funny that even Donovan would faint.

While John was watching this episode, Lestrade was staring at Donovan; he hadn't expected quite that reaction. He walked over to Sally, just to see with his own eyes that she had indeed fainted.

"What should we do with her?" Lestrade asked.

"Chuck her out a window for all I care!" Sherlock was still fuming but had sat back down. "Give her to Anderson."

"I think I've missed something." John asked looking at Sherlock.

"I'm afraid I don't follow either, would you care to explain?" Lestrade asked.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"It's not obvious to me."

"They are together."

"How the hell did you figure that out?" Lestrade exclaimed, if anyone should have known that anything had gone of between them it, should have been he.

Sherlock let out a sigh," New clothes, bought recently but not yet worn, so saving for a special occasion. Why would she wear them to work then? She has a date, the clothes were worn to impress. She has on lipstick that matches the outfit. Why would she wear all of this to work if she didn't mean to impress someone who would see her at work? So that narrows it down to someone she comes into close contact during her work hours. Taking in her likes and dislikes we can easily eliminate about half of the men. Now we look for someone who is just as dressed up. That narrows it down to two, taking into account that one of them is gay, that leaves us with Anderson."

"You got all of that from about two minutes of passing through the building?" Lestrade asked sounding amazed.

"Amazing!" John said quietly, this was exactly why he adored this man. Wait a second, adored? Since when did John adore something? He was Sherlock Holmes! The asexual sociopath! Maybe he was over reacting to this. John was straight, he knew that much, at least he thought so. Maybe other men thought stuff like that and were straight. He had never shown any interest in men-

"John?" his thoughts were interrupted by Greg saying his name, he sounded slightly concerned.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" John asked quickly, wondering if anyone had noticed that he zoned out.

"You just looked kind-of out of it…"

Sherlock's eyes flicked to John trying to see what had troubled him. They locked eyes for a second and Sherlock saw an emotion behind them that he couldn't figure out. John tore his eyes away and turned to Lestrade.

"No, I'm fine."

"Ok, well back to business, Sherlock. Sherlock?"

Sherlock had zoned out too and was exploring his mind palace looking for recognition of that specific emotion. He searched through each of the emotions he had ever seen on Johns face. He saw sadness, anger, confusion, and happiness, but never had he seen this specific emotion before. He filed it away for further examination later.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock came back with a start. "What?"

"You just…"

"What?"

"Never mind, your idea then?"

"I will need to allow Moran to find out where I am supposedly living. He must be allowed to find my "home" and try to kill me. I will know when he plans to do so and you and your team will be stationed outside ready to take him into custody when we call for you."

"Ok, where? What will his incentive be to shoot you if you are ready to ambush him? How do you plan to know what his movements are?" Lestrade having been associating with Sherlock for a while knew how to phrase these questions.

"Johns old flat being the place, a waxwork of me will be his target inside of Johns old flat, while we will be across the street in the other building waiting to capture him, and Mycroft."

At Sherlock saying his brothers name John, who was sitting opposite Sherlock, eyes flared with anger, Sherlock noticed this.

"John, pray tell why you are suddenly so angry? It obviously has something to do with my brother."

John was having a tough time controlling his anger. He gritted his teeth and said in a slow, broken speech.

"He-betrayed-you-to-him."

Lestrade looked alarmed.

"He's my brother, we hate each other, but he would never give Moriarty information about me."

"Then I guess you don't know him too well." Johns voice was low and dangerous, "He told Moriarty. Did you ever wonder how he got your life story? Mycroft sold you out for bits of useless information he wasn't even sure he was going to get. If it wasn't for him you would have never had to jump."

"John-"

"No, Sherlock, I am not mistaken. If you don't believe me, I think we should pay Mycroft a little visit."

The way that John said "Mycroft" told Sherlock how serious he really was. He still didn't believe that his brother had done such a thing. Sherlock was reluctant to go to Mycroft, but since he had to ask a favour of him anyway he might as well. Even Mycroft had boundarys.

**srry this one was kinda short. plz review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**hey this is a little shorter than others. only like 1000 words, thanks for stickin with me charlotte, goat, shay, french fry, anonyomus, and somone else who doesnt review but reads. and everyone else who refuses to review. if you did however i would give you a shout out.**

Chapter 7

John could see that Sherlock still didn't believe him, but he would see soon enough. How would Sherlock react to his betrayal? He felt that whatever it was going to be it wouldn't be pretty.

Sherlock looked at John. He could tell that John thought he was telling the truth, but he couldn't be. He had never willingly met Mycroft before; he had only ever had been "abducted" or sought out by his older brother.

They sat in silence for the rest of the ride, each of them being so absorbed in their own thoughts. They got out in front of Mycroft's home, although most would call it a mansion, and rang the doorbell. The door was answered by Anthea.

"He's expecting you." She said without looking up from her blackberry.

They walked through the house to Mycroft's study. He was sitting at his desk with his fingers folded across the table, wearing his usual three-piece suit.

"Ahh, brother, what brings you to my humble home?"

"Well, John was under the impression that you-"John cut him off and said very quietly in the same tone he had used earlier.

"Tell him what you did."

"John-"Mycroft started.

"TELL HIM!" John yelled

"John I don't think-"Sherlock began, but was cut off by his brother.

"Sherlock, I'm afraid I messed up, terribly… John was correct." Mycroft looked at his younger brother, trying to tell what he was thinking.

Sherlock's jaw dropped. His brother, his own brother…

"You… of all people, MY OWN BROTHER!"

"Now Sherlock, calm yourself." Mycroft said trying to console his brother.

"NO! I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! YOU BETRAYED ME TO **HIM**! YOU WERE ONE OF THE FEW PEOPLE THAT I TRUSTED! I THOUGHT YOU HAD BOUNDARYS! I THOUGHT THAT YOU HAD SOME RESPECT FOR YOUR FAMILY, BUT NOW WORK IS MORE IMPORTANT TO YOU THAN ANYTHING!"

John had never seen Sherlock this angry in his life. Sherlock was slowly approaching Mycroft; he looked like a tiger about to attack its prey. Mycroft stood and was backing away as Sherlock approached his desk.

Sherlock threw all of the paper and documents on his brother's desk, onto the floor as he continued to stalk Mycroft around the room. Every few steps he took he would throw something, either just to break it or to throw it at Mycroft, at which point Mycroft would dodge what ever object was sailing through the air towards his head. John wondered how long this would go on, both brothers being entirely competent to throw and dodge objects for hours. John approached Sherlock, not really thinking. He slowly walked up to him from behind, and lightly touched him on the shoulder. The taller man turned, and John could see the pain, hurt, and rage in his eyes. This was the most venerable he had ever seen Sherlock.

"Sherlock, its ok, I bet he didn't mean to. Its over with now." John said soothingly, beginning to regret he had even said anything.

Mycroft had been backing away from, his younger brother. Even Mycroft had never seen his brother this angry. He felt even worse than he had when he realized what he had done in the first place. Mycroft rarely ever felt remorse, this was one of those times, he had no idea how to try and calm Sherlock down, his mother and father had always done that. He was extremely surprised when all John did was lightly touch him on the shoulder and say a few words to calm him down, and it worked. He would have to pay more attention to the way that these two worked from now on.

Mycroft approached his brother, "Sherlock, I am very, very sorry for what I did. You can't even imagine how much I regret it. I tried to make up for my mistake by helping you make your escape. If there is anything I can do for you, I will." Mycroft walked to his brother and stood in front of him for a few seconds, hesitating. He then put his arms around Sherlock in an awkward one sided hug. When he let go Sherlock looked a little more stable, but still angry as hell.

"Thank you, for the offer." Sherlock said so quietly that John almost missed it, "And don't ever expect to hear that again." He growled.

"Sherlock, what was your real reason for coming to see me, I believe you had come to ask a favour?" Mycroft's quick change of the subject gave Sherlock the time to reestablish his indifferent mask before speaking again.

"Yes, I need access to you surveillance cameras around John's old flat."

"Ok, anything else?"

"Not anything I can think of at the moment."

"Ok then, here is the code to get onto the security cameras, and call me if you think of anything else." Mycroft handed Sherlock a slip of paper with multiple lines of script on it. "Inform me of what happens."

"Sure, sure." Sherlock replied as they made to walk out of his study.

"You don't actually intend to tell him what happens do you?" John asked once they were back in a cab on their way to Baker Street.

"Of course not, why would I do that?"

"Oh, I dunno, to make things a heck of a lot easier?"

"John, have you learned nothing from me?"

John sighed, Sherlock was one stubborn detective. They pulled up outside of Baker Street and climbed out. They trudged upstairs, or rather John trudged while Sherlock jumped the steps two at a time to get up to the flat.

When John got up the stairs, he walked over to the couch and flopped down on it and he turned on top gear while Sherlock typed away at his laptop monitoring the streets around London.

"John. I found our man."

**srry for all of the stupid cliff hangers i just cant resist. lol. please review! need to know if i'm doing well! thanks! and all of you who have favourited me as an author, or put my story on alert and havnt! reviewed. i ask you to please review!**


	8. Chapter 8

**hey this is ch8 hope you like, funally getting into the chase... soo intense. pplzz review! **

Chapter 8

"Really? That didn't take very long. Where is he?"

"A café a fair few streets over, and he's carrying… Oh, god. John we have to go, NOW!" Sherlock yelled, running about, he grabbed his coat and threw John his. He rushed out of the door with John right on his heels. Sherlock hailed a cab and told him the address of John's flat.

"Cabbie, I'll give you ten pounds if you can get us there in five minutes."

The cabbie stepped on it just to please Sherlock, who was tapping his toes impatiently.

"Sherlock, would you care to explain what the bloody hell we are doing."

"We are catching a killer, what does it look like. Text Lestrade tell him we need him and his team ASAP."

"Ok, why the rush?"

"He's on his way to kill me now; he must've followed me to your flat the other night. Now tell Lestrade. Quickly!"

"Ok, ok."

John pulled out his mobile and sent a quick text to Lestrade telling him to get his team together as quickly as possible and to meet them at his old flat. They pulled up outside of the flat and Sherlock rushed up the stairs and started throwing things everywhere, looking for something.

Greg felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out, a text from John, what could he be texting him about?

**Get your team together and meet Sherlock and me at the old flat. Get here ASAP! **

Oh, shit. Lestrade ran into his office and got his gun, badge, and anything else he thought he would need and raced out of the office.

"EVERYONE LISTEN UP. I NEED A TEAM ASAP. IF YOU ARNT DOING ANYTHING GET OFF YOUR LAZY ARSE AND FOLLOW ME. You included, Donovan." Lestrade quickly had about five or six people following him as he ran out of the building and jumped into a squad car. He drove off, tires squealing. Luckily, the flat was only about five miles away; he made it to the flat in five minutes to find Sherlock and John inside the flat, and Sherlock setting something on a pedestal in front of the window that faced the streets. He shut the thin curtain and turned to Lestrade.

Sherlock was running around the room looking for something when John entered.

"What are you looking for? I might be able to help you know!"

"Looking for something to…" his voice faded into unintelligible muttering.

"Sherlock! What are you looking for?"

"Materials, John, materials!" Sherlock yelled over his shoulder.

"For what? Exactly." John waited for an answer and when he didn't get one sighed and gave up. He went up to his old room and started to pack up the clothes that he still had there, and by pack up he meant throw into a duffle bag to come back and get later. He walked around the rest of his former flat, looking for some more things to throw in his bag. He didn't bring many possessions with him to the new flat when he left Baker Street; most of them were still at 221b.

John went back down to where Sherlock was now messing with god knows what in the kitchen. He sat down and waited for either Sherlock to finish what ever in the hell he was doing, or for Lestrade to come through the door with his team.

John walked over to Sherlock to look over his shoulder at what he was doing. At the moment it looked like a blob of random objects from the kitchen held together with tape and miscellaneous other things. It looked kind of like the top half of a human. He had no idea how this was going to help them catch Moran, but was sure that Sherlock had some sort of plan, no matter how mad his methods might seem.

John had left the door to the flat open so that Lestrade could get in without disturbing Sherlock. Sherlock moved the strange looking object over to a pedestal that was in front of the window that faced the street and the window of the building opposite them. Lestrade and his team came rushing in the room just as Sherlock's masterpiece was finished.

"Sherlock got the text, what's up?" Lestrade asked as he walked in.

"We have found Moran and he plans to "kill" me today, I need you and your team stationed around the building across the street. John and I will be inside the building waiting to ambush him when he takes a shot."

"Sorry, takes a shot at what?"

Sherlock pointed at the mass of random objects in front of the window. Lestrade looked highly confused and Sherlock just sighed and climbed the stairs to John's room. Lestrade turned to John.

"What the hell is he on about?"

"I honestly have no idea, Greg. He wouldn't tell me what he was doing when I asked five minutes ago-"

Just then Sherlock came back out of the room carrying a very thin sheet; it was just as thin as the curtain that was hanging in front of Sherlock's sculpture. He held it up to the front of the sculpture so that Greg and I could see it. With the sheet in front of it and the sculpture positioned exactly it made a perfect outline of Sherlock's head and shoulders.

"Oh, that's what he'll be aiming at…" Lestrade said, speaking his thoughts out loud.

"Exactly, now inspector, get all of your team stationed so that they are not seen by Moran." Sherlock turned to John, "John, follow me, you and I will be hiding out in the empty house waiting for our good friend the Colonel."

**hehehe not that intense but next one will be! plz review only a couple chapters left!**


	9. Chapter 9

**hey this is the second to last chapter for this story. hope you like it. PLZZZZ review!**

Chapter 9

John and Sherlock rushed over to the building across the way. Sherlock had to pick the lock, but luckily no one lived in the building, so they at least didn't have to deal with an angry landlady. Sherlock navigated them through the unfamiliar building to the room that had the window across from the flat.

Sherlock looked out of the window and quickly found some of Lestrade's men lounging about the café on the other side of the street. He let out an aggravated sigh.

"What is it Sherlock?" John asked hearing Sherlock's angry sigh.

"Look at them John, they're being so obvious!" John made his way over to the window and looked down at the street, scanning for some of Lestrade's men; he turned back to Sherlock, "I don't see anything"

"John look, they're everywhere, over at the café, loitering in the streets, everywhere, and they're being so obvious about it! They might just ruin it!"

"Sherlock, I don't think Moran will be looking for them, and he surely isn't as perceptive as you are."

John turned and started to look around their hideout, Sherlock watched him surprised that John had complemented him so nonchalantly. Sherlock suspected that he didn't even realize that he did. He supposed John was right Moran would not suspect Scotland Yard to be after him. At least they all had had the decency to dress as pedestrians.

There was one corner of the room that was hidden in shadows that John had found and was now standing in, watching Sherlock continually look out of the window and pace around the room, he was obviously deep in thought. Sherlock turned and his eyes lightly skimmed over where John stood hidden from sight. After looking around the room, Sherlock whirled about, looking for something, John realized he was searching for him.

"John?" Sherlock said uncertainly.

John came out from his hiding spot on the wall,"Yes, Sherlock?"

"I thought you left. That's a very good spot to hide and wait for our man. I could barely see you."

"Oh, admit it Sherlock, you didn't see me at all."

Sherlock shook his head and turned back towards the window, looking down at the street.

"Sherlock, aren't you worried about someone seeing you down on the street?"

"No, the angle at which the sun is at the moment will make it difficult for any one to see anything on the side of this building, much less someone who is barely looking out of the window."

They waited around for their target to show. Every now and then Sherlock would walk over to the window, look out, and start pacing. For what seemed like the twentieth time Sherlock looked out of the window.

"John! I see him he's coming this way. Tell Lestrade to get ready."

John pulled out his phone and sent Lestrade a quick text before Sherlock rammed him into the darkened corner. Sherlock put his hand over John's mouth to stop him from shouting out in surprise.

They heard slow easy footsteps coming up the stairs to the room in which they now hid. They heard the door creek and a tall figure walked into the room and glanced about him to make sure he was alone. Sherlock and John held their breaths. When he turned back to the window and started to set an interesting looking rifle up on the window sill they let out a long breath and started to breathe again. John was beginning to wonder when they were supposed to try to capture him, when Sherlock shot out from beside him and quietly ran over to Moran and stuck his arms around the mans neck, startling him, giving Sherlock a slight advantage. Moran stood up and backed into the wall slamming Sherlock's head against the plaster. John shot out from his hiding place, and head butted Moran in the stomach causing him to double over in pain. Sherlock climbed off of the mans back and pushed John out of the way of Moran's fists. John yelled out of the window for Lestrade. Sherlock and Moran were struggling, Moran had Sherlock's fists in one hand, and Sherlock's legs were kicking every inch of Moran they could reach. He kicked his legs up Moran's body using him like a wall to kick himself up and over breaking the grip Moran had on Sherlock's wrists. John put Moran in a headlock, but was thrown off. Where was Lestrade? Sherlock saw Moran's hand go for his jacket and pull out a gun. Sherlock ran to John and pushed him away just as a shot fired off from Moran's handgun. Sherlock felt a searing pain in his right arm, just as Lestrade and his team came into the room.

John had just been pushed over by Sherlock and tried to get back up again, when he heard a shot fired off and looked over at Sherlock. He saw blood running down his right arm soaking through his silk shirt. Greg rushed into the room just as John scrambled across the floor and tripped Moran up causing him to land on his face. Greg rushed forward and clapped a pair of cuffs on Moran and sent him away with Donovan and a couple other officers. John scrambled over to Sherlock, he was losing blood pretty quickly, but he still managed to stand.

"Jesus, Christ! What happened to your arm!" Lestrade exclaimed, as he turned to look to Sherlock.

"Nothing, its nothing inspector. I take it you have Moran?" Sherlock said, changing the subject away from his injury.

"He shot you!"

"Way to state the obvious, Lestrade."

Sherlock's blood was now steadily dripping down his arm onto the floor.

"Sherlock, at least sit down and let me look at it." John pleaded.

"I'm fine John I don't need-"Sherlock's voice faded, and he started to sway.

"Sherlock!" John rushed over to his friend who was about to fall.

"No, John, I-I'm f-fine." Sherlock protested feebly, before his eyes rolled back in his head and everything went black.

**hey, so much suspense! sorry to stop it there! thanks for bearin with me through this! reviews are appreciated!**


	10. Chapter 10

**this is the end of this story. sadface! thanks for everyone who supported me through this!**

Chapter 10

"Sherlock!" John yelled his friends name as he rushed over to catch him before he hit the floor, he was frantic, Sherlock was losing blood much too quickly,"Greg! Call an ambulance! NOW!"

"Ok, I'm on it." Greg turned and was frantically yelling into his phone. John turned back to Sherlock, if they didn't stop the bleeding soon, he would bleed to death. John ripped part of his hoody into a long strip and tied it above the large gash in Sherlock's arm. It ran horizontally across his upper arm, the cut was jagged and extremely deep. The bullet seemed to have hit a blood vessel, which was now bleeding profusely.

John ripped another part of his hoody and pressed it to Sherlock's wound trying to stop the flow. The paramedics arrived two minutes later to take Sherlock away. John refused to leave him so he rode in the ambulance with Sherlock, the entire ride he held the detectives hand. Sherlock couldn't die; he wouldn't let him, not again.

When they got to the hospital, John was told to wait outside while they stitched him up. John was left to his thoughts. Sure he liked Sherlock, as a friend right? No Sherlock was more than a friend, though not in that way. God, what was wrong with him! He wasn't gay, but he was having some second thoughts about his sexuality. Sure, he felt protective of Sherlock, but that was understandable, right? Oh, god, John put his head in his hands. He couldn't even figure out his own feelings. All he knew was that whatever he felt for Sherlock, it was extremely powerful.

A doctor in came out of the room Sherlock was currently in, and walked up to John.

"John Watson?" the doctor asked.

John stood up, "Yes, it he alright?"

"Well, he has lost a lot of blood but we believe he will be alright."

"Thank, god. Thank you. Can I see him?"

"Yes, you may, but please don't wake him, he's sleeping."

John made his way over to Sherlock's bed and sat down next to him. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping. They had hooked him up so many machines, bags, and IVs it broke John's heart. He reached up and grabbed Sherlock's hand and held it in his own. Sherlock's hand was so soft, while John's had been caliced and hardened by the war.

Sherlock had a few visitors during the day, Mycroft who gave John a knowing look that he did not understand, Molly who looked slightly sad, and left Sherlock flowers, Mrs. Hudson, who was glad he was ok and sat with John by his bedside for some time, and Greg and Sally, Greg stayed for a while, while sally just stood in the corner waiting for her boss to finish visiting the unconscious man.

"Well, John, I'm afraid I'll have to go, we have a pretty trying case at the moment, two boys found dead in an alley five blocks away from their home, their skulls bashed in. stepmother said they didn't hear anything the night of and the husband was out with some buddies at a bar"

"It was the stepmother." Said a quiet voice from behind them, they turned and realized that it was Sherlock, who was only semi-conscious. He opened his eyes and John dropped his hand.

"Honestly Lestrade, if I can get it in a drug addled state surely you and your whole team could figure it out." After this short speech he dropped unconscious again.

Greg sighed, "He's even arrogant when injured, honestly. Well I better go take the stepmother into questioning. See you later John."

John sat back down and took Sherlock's hand again. The look he got from Mycroft, the way molly looked. He had fallen in love with Sherlock Holmes, and he was the last one to know about it. Sherlock probably did not return his sentiments, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered at the moment. He could live with just being friends, for now.

**hey there will be a sequel! called this twisted fate! might be up tomorrow... i dunno thanks everyone!**


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